


Whatever It Takes

by ShyTurtleLady



Category: God of War
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Fluff, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Oh my god I feel bad already, Slow Burn, bad at tags, damn you modi, plz don't hate, poor Kratos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-05-24 08:46:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14951418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyTurtleLady/pseuds/ShyTurtleLady
Summary: Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Kratos takes it upon himself to keep Atreus safe from harm -- even if it means he must make the ultimate sacrifice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is still kind of new to me. People said they enjoyed my other fic 
> 
> (which was a smut and can be found here https://archiveofourown.org/works/14908341 ) 
> 
> and were asking me to continue -- preferably, in something with chapters. This idea came to me at about 1 in the morning, and I, knowing my forgetful brain, scribbled out the plot as fast as possible so I could actually start to write it out today.  
> Enjoy and review!
> 
> ~Miss Turtle

Atreus snuck ahead of his father, creeping through the thick undergrowth with his bow drawn. He paused. He had his sight on the moose they were hunting. Glancing back to his father, he received his confirmation with a brisk nod.

Slipping away into a nearby bush, Atreus stopped, drawing the bowstring back. The hand on the bow tensed, and Atreus willed it to relax, and it did. Taking a deep breath, he counted his breaths, slowing down his heartbeat and focusing in on the great hooved animal. It bowed its massive head to graze at the lush grass. It chomped at the grass and chewed noisily.

 _‘Steady, Atreus,’_ he told himself. _‘It’s not going anywhere.’_

Exhaling softly, Atreus drew the bowstring back even farther, stretching it taut against him. He inhaled, aiming at the massive, furry hide, and finally released the string.

The arrow bolted forward, rushing into the moose and slamming into it with a quiet  _swip_. It reared back, bellowing out before it collapsed onto the ground, dead. Kratos appeared next to the moose, already slinging it around his shoulder to carry back. His gaze met Atreus’s, and he nodded.

“Good job, boy.” Atreus felt a warm flutter in his chest at the praise he so rarely gave him. Kratos turned away to march back to their house, but an armored soldier stepped out, sword drawn. Several more followed suit, circling around the two carefully with weapons out.

“Ah! There you are!”

Whipping around in the direction of the voice, Atreus already had an arrow nocked on his bow. Kratos quickly dropped the moose carcass and unsheathed his axe. A tall figure stepped out from a tangled swath of leaves, a wicked grin etched onto his face. It was Modi.

“It was hard to track you down, but I _finally_ found you!” He exclaimed happily, pointing his metallic club at the pair. The soldiers knit themselves together more tightly, making the already small barrier they had around them even smaller.

“Boy,” His father commanded. Atreus backed away into his father, who held an arm around him protectively. Modi smirked.

“What? Need your father to protect you because you’re just a _weakling?”_ He sneered. Atreus forced himself to keep calm and ignore him. Kratos growled when the thunderous demigod took a step closer. “You’re _pathetic,_ little boy,” Modi purred, drawing even closer to the pair. “No wonder your mother died; she wanted to get away from you as fast as possible.”

With an inhuman screech, Atreus launched himself at Modi. The god snatched him out of the air and wrapped a strong arm around him. Atreus snarled and flailed in Modi’s grip, but the sturdy god held strong. Atreus fit his jaws around his captor’s arm and bit down hard, the coppery taste of blood dripping into his mouth.

The thunder god hissed in pain but did not let go, instead dropping his club and ripping out a knife from his side and pressed it against Atreus’s throat. The boy stopped struggling, but he cast Modi a withering glare. Modi only laughed dryly in response. He smiled sadistically up at Kratos, who’s eyes widened in alarm.

  
“What’re you going to do, _Kratos?”_ Modi jeered, voice dripping with contempt. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, when I was first making this, I literally spent half an hour procrastinating whether I should name this Whatever It Takes or Please Don't Go; obviously I came down to a decision, but both seemed like very appropriate names for this. 
> 
> This is a lot longer than the last chapter, which I'm sure many of you are happy about!
> 
> **WARNING: this is pretty violent, so if you're squeamish about blood or that kind of stuff, I would not recommend reading this. Also, this is going to mess with some feels (´T-T`)
> 
> ~Miss Turtle

Kratos froze where he was. Wrapped up in the arms of a god who’s half brother he had killed, was Atreus, a knife on his throat. He didn’t dare move.

Modi cackled wickedly.

“I knew you were a man of few words, but this seems out of the ordinary even for you!” He mocked.

Kratos grit his teeth but stood stiffly. A few of the soldiers surrounding him glanced at each other nervously, but remained in their places. God or not, they knew better than to tempt Kratos if the stories they were told about him were anything to go by.

“Modi...I wish to make a trade.”

Modi’s brows quirked. _‘Foolish god!’_ he thought triumphantly. _‘I have you_ exactly _where I want you!’_

“Go on,” He purred. He tightened his grip around the boy in his arms, and Kratos’s eyes immediately darted down to meet Atreus's, and his son gasped, clawing for his neck. Modi squeezed even harder when Kratos still did not speak, and the fury in the boy’s eyes quickly faded into fear. Atreus choked on the breaths that would not go down, and his body convulsed spasically as he attempted to pry away the lightning god's grasp on his windpipe.

“STOP!” Kratos roared. Modi was amused at the outburst, but loosened the pressure on the small boy. Atreus heaved in long breaths to replenish his lungs, and his pale skin returned to its natural color. Kratos glared at the vile creature before him with such a hate he half-expected Modi to start choking on himself. Unfortunately, he did not. Kratos huffed.

“Let the boy go.”

“Now _why_ would _I_ do _that?”_ Modi asked sarcastically.

“I will exchange places with him.”

The thunder god perked up, his sinful smile turning maniac.

This was it. There was no turning back now.

“Oh, is that so? So you suddenly decided that you enjoy this pitiful excuse for a man?” Modi jabbed. Kratos didn’t reply immediately. He took a step forward with his head high.

“Is that why you prey on him? Because he’s weaker than you?” Kratos retorted sharply. “Now are you willing to accept the trade or not?!”

Modi growled at him, but inched closer to the god.

“When I release this little fawn, you come here, or he will not get to go,” He warned. Kratos nodded, ready to slide into place.

“Right. Three...two...one…!” Modi released the boy and shoved him away while reaching out for Kratos. As soon as his hand was around Kratos's neck, Modi was already sliding the dagger around him. Atreus fell forward and yelped out upon impact into the dirt. He whirled around, eyes widening at the sight of his father’s capture.

“No, Father!” He cried out. He scrambled to his feet, but a few soldiers stuck their spears into his face, and he was forced down. Unable to help, Atreus called out again pleadingly. “No, Father, please, no!”

“The deal has already been made, little boy!” Modi laughed. Kratos tensed beside him but stayed still. He cleared his throat, glancing over to Kratos, who glowered back at him with a smoldering rage. He grinned cheerfully. “Now,” he said nonchalantly, “Let’s get this show on the road, eh?”

Before Atreus could respond, Modi snagged the Leviathan Axe from Kratos’s back and threw him into the ground. Atreus screamed out in horror, clawing his way to his father desperately through the clump of soldiers that blocked him.

The remaining troops surrounded the stunned Kratos and pinned him down. As Kratos peered up into them, the soldiers’ eyes were glimmering with bloodlust. Modi tossed the Leviathan Axe back and forth, admiring its smooth curves and the enormous finely-shaped blade.

“This is a true beauty -- makes me wonder how something like this slipped into _your_ filthy hands,” Modi remarked. He glanced lazily down at Kratos, his ridiculous smirk coming back to his features. Kratos rolled his eyes. Modi tightened, scowling at the pale god.

“Now, we begin,” he breathed. That was all the warning Kratos got before Modi swung the blunt side of the axe down onto him. The other soldiers joined in, stabbing the defenseless god with their sharpened spears and laughing amongst Modi. Modi bellowed like a lunatic and slammed the axe deep into the very center of Kratos.

“Scream for me, Kratos!” Modi crowed. Kratos gurgled out blood, but refused still to make a sound.

Modi slashed at him again, and again, and again. Atreus crumpled to the ground, sobbing loudly as the soldiers around him left to stab at his father. He couldn’t do anything. Nothing, to save his father. His father, the one who had saved him countless times, from the dark elves, to the sickness, to Freya and Baldur. And Atreus couldn’t repay Kratos the one time he needed saving. Another stab emitted a sickening squelch from his father, who groaned. Atreus screwed his eyes shut, trying to shut out his father’s quiet sounds of pain, that as well as the catcalls of those cruel people who picked at his father like savages.

  
  
  


It seemed like days had passed before they finally stopped. They smiled gleefully, and a few spit onto his father. Modi grinned, holding the Leviathan Axe up high, and dropped it on Kratos. His father didn’t make a sound as the heavy weapon landed with a deep thud. \ They left.

At last, Atreus uncurled from his ball, cheeks red and puffy. He crawled weakly over to his father’s still form. Bloodied and battered, Kratos was encased in so much of his own blood that his red markings had seemed to have disappeared underneath a thick coat of red. His clothes were torn up and tattered, and his body itself was reduced to holes and ribbons of once hard, pale flesh. Quivering, Atreus wrapped his small arms around his father’s mutilated body.

“Please don’t go…” he pleaded softly. He rested his head against his father’s broken chest, heart cracking into two. Then, a miracle happened. It was almost nonexistent, but Atreus felt the slightest of breaths leave his father. He scrambled next to his father and pressed his ear against his heart. However weak it was, he caught the faint sound of his father’s heart beat. He was so relieved he  started to cry again. His happiness drained quickly when his father’s brows furrowed ever so slightly.

Atreus knew what he had to do.

It would be hard -- maybe even painfully so -- but he had to do this. He _had_ to. His father had given up himself for him and was teetering on the very edge of death for him. It was the least he could do.

Atreus squared his jaw. He could do this. It might take a while, but he could do it.

With that in mind, Atreus got up and knelt down by his father’s head. He struggled a few minutes, but he managed to wrap his scrawny arms around his father’s muscular sides and tugged at him. Kratos's body didn’t budge. But Atreus was undeterred. He grit his teeth and pulled harder at his father, pouring every ounce of his measly strength into his efforts. Kratos finally moved. It was hardly an inch, but Atreus felt victorious nonetheless.

  
  
  


It had taken Atreus the rest of the day to haul his father’s limp body, the axe, and the dead moose from that morning back to their home. He had to take several breaks in between, but when he finally dragged in the moose and closed the door, Atreus collapsed into the floor. It was almost nightfall, but he couldn't sleep quite yet. He still had work to do.

Atreus tried to get up, but his exhausted body refused. He forced himself upwards, and, with the help of the door, he managed to get up, but he was shaky on his feet. Atreus staggered over to the moose and allowed himself to fall onto it. He unsheathed his knife -- a gift from his father, he thought sorrowfully -- and buried it into the dead animal.

Atreus carved out a couple chunks of flesh, and started a fire. He sat next to Kratos while the meat cooked. Grabbing a spare cloth and their water bucket, the boy wiped his father down. The blood stained both the cloth and the water a deep red.

Atreus watched his father silently. He paused in his gentle sweeps with the bloodied cloth.

_‘This never would’ve happened if I had just ignored Modi.’_

The thought was so awfully, horrifically, _unspeakably_ true that Atreus wanted to cover his ears and just  _scream_. He would have too, if not that his brutally disfigured father was resting. Atreus restrained himself. Kratos needed all his strength to recover from this.

 _‘Would he even be able to at this point?’_ Atreus mused sadly. He shook himself of that dangerous conclusion; Kratos would survive. He’s survived worse, right?

Atreus couldn’t erase his doubt entirely, but he shoved the thought into a mental chest and locked it up with mental chains. _‘There.’_ he huffed. _‘No way you can get to me now!’_

He finished cleaning Kratos and grabbed a spare sheet of bedding and bandaged his father up as best to his ability, albeit not without difficulty. Atreus wolfed down his meal and his father’s portion, seeing as Kratos wasn’t about to wake up soon.

When completely done, the exhausted boy tumbled into his bed and dropped dead asleep as soon as his head hit the pillows.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I am so sorry for the long wait! This chapter is a bit more laid back from all that intensity from earlier, and I will try to get back on track with more chapters. Don't you just HATE when life decides to interrupt you right as you start doing something?
> 
> I know I do.
> 
> Please enjoy and review!
> 
> ~Miss Turtle

When Atreus did finally wake, half the day was already gone and he felt even worse and more sore than the day before.

He hauled himself out of his bed with a loud groan and sat up on the edge of his bed. His father was still sleeping, and he hadn’t moved an inch from where Atreus had dropped him.

The boy supported himself with the nightstand that stood nearby and teetered over to Kratos. He pulled off the sheets covering him and glanced at the bandages. They were completely soaked in blood, but, as he peeled them off carefully, they had successfully stopped the immense bleeding.

Atreus grabbed fresh sheets and cut them into smaller strips. He undid the dirty bandages and dutifully cleaned his father again with the stained rag he had used from yesterday. He bound together the new ones, puffing with effort, and he finished his task with cautious haste.

 

The Ghost of Sparta had not so much as twitched the entire time.

 

Atreus approached the dead moose that lay in their living room. At this point, it didn’t smell too great, but at least Atreus wouldn’t have to hunt any time soon so long as he cut it up in time to dry it off properly. He pulled out his knife again, and began carving up the rest of the dead moose into sizable chucks.

Relighting the dead fire, Atreus placed the meat by the flames to dry. He collected the bow from his bed along with several buckets.

Kratos would need the water should he wake when Atreus wasn’t there.

Actually, Atreus would need the water to cleanse his father anyways.

The young boy exited their house, careful to lock the door and jam a small piece of wood into the bottom of it so nothing could enter. He tested the door, ramming into it with his shoulder, and it didn’t move. Satisfied, he grabbed the buckets he had set down and traveled away to the nearby river.

The river wasn’t very big -- honestly, it wasn’t even really a river; it was more like a steam -- but Atreus settled down at the edge of its low banks and lowered a bucket into the water. The moving water steadily filled the bucket up, and Atreus switched them out until all of them were full. Hoisting the buckets up, he tread back to his home sluggishly underneath the weight of the water.

  
  
  
Atreus laid the buckets down on the wooden floor, and he repeated the chores he had done the previous night; he cooked some of the dried moose meat, undid his father’s bandages and wiped him down with a clean cloth, redid the bandages with fresh sheets, ate supper, and slipped into bed.

Krato’s breathing was dangerously close to silent, and Atreus listened to him warily. Shoving his thick fur blanket aside, the young boy came over to his father’s side and quietly observed him. His usual gruff demeanor was gone, replaced by that with furrowed brows and a seemingly permanent wince of great pain. The Ghost of Sparta was truly living up to his title, his skin even paler than it had been before.

Before...

Atreus scrubbed his face, willing himself to stay away from _those_ thoughts again. The ones where is father was laying sprawled on the ground, muscles and skin alike torn apart and ravaged by what could have been wild animals. Rage bubbled in his small chest again, so intense he could rip apart something with his bare hands. But his mind reminded him of his father, of Kratos, who ignored the jests Modi and Magni had made against him and his mother.

_‘Control yourself.’_

Atreus breathed in deeply, then let out the air as a heavy sigh. Slowly, he calmed down again. He remembered his father’s clarity, how even in the midst of a battle, he was calm and collected. He drew from these memories of when they fought together, and his nerves finally settled. He could always kill Modi later. But for now, Kratos was his primary concern.

Crawling into bed, Atreus lay right next to his father, and he listened intently for Krato’s shallow breathing. Although it was soft, Atreus also listened for the once-thunderous heartbeat, now reduced to weak pulses. He closed his eyes, allowing his father’s gentle rhythm to soothe him to sleep.

Today had not been bad, but Kratos still had yet to wake.

But that was okay.

There was always tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry (again) for the delay, and also future delay, because I will be gone basically all week.
> 
> No spoilers, but I originally did not plan for the ending to this chapter to be as it is. 
> 
> However, as always, please enjoy and review!
> 
> ~Miss Turtle

Several days passed by, and Atreus kept up his new daily routine; wake up, inspect Kratos’s wounds, spend time thinking about how much he hated Modi as calmly as he possibly could, wash up the still angry injuries with cool water, rebandage his father, eat breakfast, check how much moose was still left, research the few books his mother had left behind on herbs and healing concoctions, go out (making sure to shove the small piece of wood underneath to jam the door shut), search for the necessary ingredients, patrol the sizeable border Atreus had established, return home, check in on father, go outside again, and repeating the process until dark. 

Although his schedule allowed for very little time to rest, Atreus wanted to be as vigilant as possible, while also looking for every herb he could find to help assist in Kratos’s recovery. Nothing had attacked them so far, but Atreus much rather preferred not playing with his luck. 

It was all going fine until one day, when Atreus returned home at about noon to do his usual check-in with his father, he found that the heavy door that had once blocked the entrance to their home was busted open, covered in long scratches from what was obviously a wild animal. 

The young boy immediately dropped the pair of rabbits he had come across and bolted into his home. Several wolves had entered -- Atreus counted instinctively, there were six -- and they all prowled dangerously close to his father’s vulnerable figure. He ripped off his bow and stormed into the mass of fur, shoving his way through to his father and quickly nocking an arrow in place. 

The animals growled and hissed at him angrily, pink gums lifting to reveal vicious, yellow-ish teeth. A few bellowed at him, and Atreus responded in kind by roaring back at them with equal ferocity. A bold wolf leapt forward, aiming for Kratos, and Atreus released his arrow into it, killing it instantly.

The other wolves burst into action with angry howls, and Atreus felt himself slip into the confidence of combat. He pinched one end of his bow tightly and whipped out the other end at a pair of wolves that were already rapidly approaching. The unsuspecting dogs yelped in alarm as the bow hit them, and Atreus heard a small crack. A pained screech filled the air and Atreus swiftly nocked another arrow into place and shot it out again. It slammed into another of the feral creatures and it quieted immediately. 

Two down, four more to go.

Atreus blocked a huge paw that came down on him, and the owner of it snarled. The boy rolled backwards and let an arrow fly into the beast as it rushed him. It dropped to the ground, only to be replaced by two more wolves that barreled straight at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Atreus spotted the third one approaching his father. 

Although his limbs were weary and heavy, Atres felt a surge of newfound strength and rage flood into his system as he belted forward, ignoring the snaps of teeth that followed him, and charged right into the wolf that was so dangerously close to his unconscious father. 

It opened its mouth, about to rip apart his father, when Atreus unsheathed his knife and stabbed it right into it’s skull. He didn’t even wait for it to fall before he whipped around and flung it right into the eye of another. It wailed out aloud and crumpled to the ground. Pain dropped on him like a boulder and Atreus screamed in agony. The sixth wolf sank its teeth into the boy’s arm painfully. 

The deranged hound glared into him, jerking at him and Atreus somehow found the sense to reach back, grab onto one of his arrows, and bury the tip of it into the mangy fur of the wild animal. It reared back and let loose one last blood-curdling howl before slumping over. 

Atreus panted hard.

_ ‘Damn, that was close!’ _ He thought. Shoving the dead wolf off him, Atreus sat up. His arm felt as if it had been set afire, and he grimaced as he pushed himself off the ground. More dead carcasses littered the floor, and he mentally groaned at the thought of having to clean up all these bloodied bodies with his arm now mangled up. Atreus glanced down to analyze his injury and and regretted it instantly. 

The wolf -- that damned thing! -- had gotten in deep. A huge, ugly gash marred the skin, and it was even uglier and more messy near the center. He could already see a bit of his bone peeking out. 

A soft whine cut into the otherwise silent air, and Atreus quickly spun around in search of the source; it was the wolf he had caught in the eye. The thing whimpered again, it’s still functioning eye rolling around fearfully. The boy stumbled over to it and knelt down, retracting his blade out of it. It squealed and jolted beneath him.

Atreus placed his wounded arm on it, and it’s eye swiveled over to it. 

“Look what you did to me. I didn’t do anything to you, and look what you did to me!” Atreus snapped. The wolf seemed to sense his anger, for it shrunk away from his withering glare with another soft, pitiful cry. 

Atreus raised his knife again; this was not the time to feel sympathetic to a creature that had just tried to kill him. But still he wavered. 

He remembered the deer he had shot down with Kratos. The pride that sweltered within, how Kratos looked at him expectantly while he held his knife out for him to finish the task. How his father’s huge hands enveloped his and pushed down with a gentle yet firm grasp. How the deer seemed to sigh in relief as the last of its air left it’s body. 

His mind was brought back to the present by the mewling beast; it’s wide eye wordlessly pleading. 

Again, he just couldn’t bring himself to do this. 

He just hoped he hadn’t chosen wrong. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE CLIFFHANGERS!!
> 
>  
> 
> ...sorry 0//-//0
> 
>  
> 
> I couldn't think of anything special to name Úlfr, so I just looked for a Norse translation of 'wolf' and that came up. This will also be the only chapter for at least about a week since I will be gone starting Monday, so my greatest apologies in advance (**gives cookie** plz don't be mad T-T)
> 
> As always, enjoy and review!
> 
>  
> 
> ~Miss Turtle

Atreus washed his bleeding and torn arm, then hastily wrapped his arm up in several layers of cloth. It stung -- it stung like Hel -- but he successfully covered his gaping wound. Now he just had to hope for the best and pray it would heal quickly and without infection.

The injured wolf still lay on the ground, watching him quietly with it’s only working eye. Atreus snagged a couple of pieces of moose meat; one for himself, one for the dog. As he approached, even with the promise of food, the wild animal still remained hesitant.

Atreus knew that trust was not something easily obtained, so he kept a good distance between them. Tearing off small chunks, Atreus slowly tosse it over to the creature. It jolted, blue eye jumping over to the food, and it’s hair prickled uncomfortably. It sniffed at the meat, then paused. A sliver of pink tongue peeked out from under it’s lips, licking the flesh, and the eye widened. It lapped at it more eagerly until it drew the meat into its mouth, chomping at it hungrily. Once it was done, it startled at seeing the boy had shifted closer. He threw over another scrap of food, which ate it up enthusiastically again.

Atreus kept tossing the meat, shifting closer and closer to the beast, until he stopped giving it the meat. It glanced up at him, confused why no more food had come when it was still so hungry, and was surprised to see it’s feeder only about a foot away from it’s face. The wolf’s tongue lolled out, and it leaned forward to nip at the remainder of meat that Atreus still held. He pulled it just out of reach of the toothy mouth.

 _‘Now or never,’_ He thought uncertainty.

He slowly presented the meat back to the wolf, flattening his palm so no fingers would be bitten. The beast leaned in again, opening its mouth wide, and Atreus had to force himself to watch instead of backing down again. It got nearer, and nearer, until he felt it’s hot breath against him, and…

...delicately grabbed the meat off his hand and snarfed it down. Atreus blinked. Then his face split as he grinned victoriously. He had tamed the wolf.

“What should your name be?” Atreus asked, stroking the dirt-encrusted fur of his new companion. He thought for a moment, his hand stopping, and the beast nosed at it. “How about...Úlfr!” Úlfr panted happily in response, nuzzling into Atreus's uninjured arm. Atreus smiled softly at the gentle behavior, fondling with Úlfr’s ears. The beast closed it’s eye and sat there enjoying the caresses. When his hand went to the small expanse of skin between his eyes, Úlfr whined half-heartedly, pulling away from the touch.

Oh.

Atreus had forgotten about Úlfr’s other eye.

The boy got up to his feet and began searching the house for clean cloth to use. He eventually found some in a laundry basket he had tucked away days ago. Reaching in, Atreus pulled out a long piece of fabric, the edges cut sloppily. Memory supplied the reason for why it was cut -- the cloth was still red anyways, so it wasn’t that hard to guess what had happened. He pushed away the thoughts of the past and grabbed a few more strips before returning to Úlfr again.

The wolf wagged its tail in greeting but quickly caught sight of the torn fabric and stopped. It peered at it warily, but did not move away when Atreus crouched down by its face. He dipped one of the fragments into a nearby water bucket and pulled it out, wringing it with firm hands.

“Úlfr,” Atreus started, tone apologetic, “this is probably going to hurt.”

With utmost caution, he began dabbing away at the still wet blood around it’s right eye, and the left one followed his movement automatically. He applied more gentle pressure just above the organ, and the wolf whimpered and shifted uncomfortably. Atreus bit his lip. “Sorry, Úlfr!”

The wolf remained mostly quiet otherwise, flinching whenever Atreus hit a particularly tender spot, and every time it cried out, Atreus flinched at the poor thing's suffering.

Atreus dropped the dirty towel into the basin and wrapped the remaining strips of fabric around Úlfr’s face. When he was finally done and tied the soft material in place, he scratched at Úlfr’s neck and the wolf cooed buoyantly.

A soft groan invaded the air and Atreus peered back over to his father. Atreus stared for a moment, then shot to his feet and dashed over to Kratos’s side. His muscular arm bore the tooth marks of the feral wolf from earlier, and it had already turned swollen and purple, which could mean only one thing.

Infection.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have finally taken a turn for the better in terms of Kratos's health, and after all of that, no -- his back does NOT hurt. 
> 
> I tried my best to translate, and I had to use a website for that, so apologies if you somehow know Norse and it is spoken incorrectly. Rough translations:  
> “Kratos is ill, but there is still time to fix his soul.”  
> "Please fix his soul."
> 
> Enjoy and review!
> 
> *UPDATE* I will be busy this weekend, and things have been really busy for me, so I will probably not be able to post anything for about a week (again, ugh). Sorry for all the waits, but much to my surprise, apparently I have a life. 
> 
> ~Miss Turtle

Kratos’s health had gotten exponentially worse. Even though he was still unconscious, Atreus would be woken up in the middle of the night to his father’s fitful coughs and wheezes. Another night, Úlfr nipped at Atreus’s clothes and whimpered. When his master hadn’t responded, Úlfr bit harder, gentle enough not to harm but firm enough to get his point across. The boy awoke with a gasp and sat up in his bed. The wolf cast a glance over to the Ghost of Sparta before peering back up at Atreus. 

He sprung over to his father’s side and felt for his forehead. It wasn’t warm as it usually was. It was hot -- hot enough to scorch -- and Atreus had to retract his hand quickly, rubbing over the stinging appendage in disturbance. 

More days passed, and with another hungry mouth to feed, the supply of moose meat depleted rapidly. Atreus hunted alone at first, but with how much food Úlfr needed and him being a natural hunter, Atreus quickly decided that having the wolf along would most definitely help with the workload. 

Úlfr was, thankfully, already used to having to cooperate with others. But what the beast was  _ not _ used to, was not eating everything as soon as he caught it. It took a lot effort and patience, but soon, Úlfr was becoming an effective asset, and Atreus had taught him to how to get into the house and drop his catch by the door. For the hunts that dealt with larger game, Atreus had also managed to teach his wolf companion a variety of complex hand signals.

As Úlfr stalked past him, Atreus would drag his fingers through his fur in commandment. One finger down meant that Atreus would scare their target towards Úlfr, and if his finger pushed against the grain of his fur, it meant that Úlfr was to scare their prey to Atreus. Two fingers down the center of the back signalled for Úlfr to get parallel to Atreus and kill the animal between them: Atreus would act as the safety should it flee first. Two fingers left or right of the spine denoted Úlfr to get to that designated side and repeat that same process. 

Through hard practice both in  _ and _ out of hunting, wolf and boy worked in such flawless syncopation that when a smaller ogre had invaded their territory, they eliminated it before it even knew they were there. 

Atreus was tremendously proud of their intricate network of communication. Really, as long as both parties were present, they could take down anything with almost frightening efficiency. But even as well as Atreus and Úlfr worked together, it did not help the infection that claimed his father. 

Despite  _ still _ not ever having woken up yet, Atreus found that as long as the they were small enough, he could feed his father. It was strange to watch Kratos eat while still asleep, but he wasn’t about to complain anytime soon. 

On today’s hunt --  which had traveled away much farther than expected -- Atreus recognized the final ingredient to  _ the _ special concoction his mother had written down in her journal. Practically ripping the plant apart, Atreus looted as many leaves as he could. 

“Come on, Úlfr! We have to go back and give Father this; it could help him get better!” Atreus cried. Úlfr’s single, baby-blue eye was genuinely happy. This was one of the few moments he had seen his master so delighted, and the wolf savored it.

They ran all the way back to the ill Ghost of Sparta. Even with aching lungs and staggering feet, Atreus had made it his primary objective to heal Kratos as fast as possible.

They entered the cabin, and while Úlfr duifully dropped the lynx they had hunted in the basket by the front door, the boy made a beeline straight for the nearest table. He lit a fire and dumped a bucket of water into a pot, placing the heavy kettle on the hook just above the blazing embers. Spinning on his heel, Atreus grabbed the other components; the spine of a venomless adder, a blue deer tongue, a green rabbit eye, and a black feather from a white raven. He waited for the water to boil, and once it did, he dropped in three of the items, reciting the incantation to each one. He stirred the mixture together with the snake spine, chanting the ancient words for the ritual. 

Ladling a small portion of the pot’s contents, Atreus approached his father with the bowl in hand. The liquid inside was a deep purple, flecked with tiny spots of yellow-green. 

“Kratos ir sótt,” Atreus murmured, “men þar ir enn tíð til þess er steðja hans sál.” He tilted his head back to look at the heavens, and his brown eyes watered pleadingly. “L íka  steðja hans sál.” He poured the potion into his father’s pale lips, and Kratos drank it down.

Everything went quiet. Even Úlfr’s panting stopped. The swollen lump that ravaged his father’s forearm slowly deflated, his ugly, sickened skin returned to it’s normal shade, and his father visibly relaxed with a sigh. 

Still somewhat dazed, Atreus pressed the back of his hand against Kratos’s forehead, and he was overjoyed that it too had cooled off to radiating it’s usual warmth. He captured Úlfr’s face and planted a big kiss on the wolf’s wet nose. Úlfr blinked in confusion at Atreus’s odd behavior, but he only had a moment’s warning before he was squeezed tightly between the lean arms of the euphoric boy. His eye bulged comically and Atreus laughed, releasing the poor wolf.

“Sorry Úlfr!” He said cheerily. “But you really have no idea just how great this is!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughhh, it's about time I got a new chapter cranked out. This one has quite a lot of heart-melting fluff, just saying that now (and no, I'm sorry, there's no kisses exchanged between Kratos and Atreus except for the spiritual ones).
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~Miss Turtle

Úlfr nudged open the door, trotting into the warm cabin. Dropping his fresh kill -- a fox -- into the basket just behind the door, he turned around and jumped up on the door, slamming it shut rather loudly. The wolf dropped back down to all fours and proceeded to bound over to his boy friend. Atreus grinned.

“Hello, Úlfr! How was your hunt? Was it good? Huh? Yeah, good boy Úlfr!” Atreus praised, covering the one-eyed wolf with affectionate rubs and a small peck on the nose. Úlfr’s tongue lolled out and he lapped back at Atreus’s loving hands as they scratched his sides and the area just behind his ears.

After casting the spell of healing (as his mother had so aptly named it), Kratos seemed to be healing quickly. With the infection that had previously plagued both his father’s body and Atreus’s thoughts gone, Kratos was free to finish regenerating the wounds still not healed from Modi.

Nothing had ever made Atreus so happy than the knowledge that his father’s survival was basically guaranteed now; all that was needed now was just time, something that Atreus (and Úlfr) had more than enough of. Truth be told, Atreus missed his adventures with Kratos dearly. Even if he had to be almost kidnapped by an evil-dark-elf-spirit thing and had to be rescued by his father and then endure a fierce scolding about how dumb he was and how he should’ve listened to his father in the first place instead of going off to do whatever.

He’d give both his eyes and hands to do that again.

Fortunately, Atreus wouldn’t have to because of how well Kratos was healing.

Úlfr nuzzled into Atreus’s chest, interrupting the boy’s train of thought and he glanced down, rubbing a hand along the coarse hairs of the wolf’s cheek. Úlfr leaned into the touch, blue eye closing as he savored the contact. Atreus guided his furry muzzle up and planted another kiss on the wolf’s nose. He scratched his ears and then pushed himself up. Or, at least, he attempted to. Turns out that while he was musing, Úlfr had climbed onto his lap. Despite how much exercise he had been getting, lifting the wolf was no easy task. “Úlfr...can you... _please_ ...get... _off!”_ Atreus grunted out. Úlfr blinked in surprise but complied with Atreus’s pushing hands and slid off.

The boy sighed in relief as 170 pounds of wolf disappeared off him. Finally released from his spot on the bed, Atreus stood up and stretched. “Hey, Úlfr, can you go grab the basket please?” Úlfr trotted over to the basket on the floor. Hooking one of the handles on his teeth, he dragged it over to Atreus. “Thanks, Úlfr,” Atreus said, patting the wolf’s head. Úlfr bobbed his head, as if to say, ‘you’re welcome.’ Atreus smiled at the idea of his furry companion talking.

 _‘Actually, he’d probably just ask for food,’_ He thought, snorting. Úlfr glanced up at him curiously, but did not voice his confusion. Atreus reached into the basket and laid out its contents; a fox, three rabbits, and a pair of squirrels. He grabbed out his special knife and skinned each of the animals. He put two of the rabbits on sticks and hung them in the fireplace. Next, Atreus lit the fire, blowing on the embers gently to coax them up. They did, and soon the fire was burning brightly, searing the tender flesh of the meat.

Atreus amused himself by tossing chunks of the remaining animals around the house, watching Úlfr chase after them and devour them hungrily, then straightening up quickly to see where the next piece would go. The night was relaxed. Atreus pulled off the rabbits and started eating when they were cooked to a tempting brown. He threw what was left of the fox he had torn apart to Úlfr, who leapt up into the air and caught it perfectly before landing and ripping at it wildly. Atreus sidled up to his father as he ate.

Did he just hear something?

Atreus stopped chewing and listened intently, but everything was silent except for the crackling fire. Úlfr sensed his tension and sniffed the air, but didn’t react otherwise. The noise repeated itself.

“...” Atreus glanced around the cabin and Úlfr got to his feet warily. The strange noise sounded again, and Úlfr took a step towards Atreus, teeth emerging from behind pink gums. The boy’s eyes followed the wolf’s line of sight, and he gasped. He set his rabbit down to the side and gripped his father’s face. A dark eye peered up at him, fluttering weakly.

“...A...tre...us…” His father wheezed, ribs expanding as he took in a deep, stuttering breath.

“Father!” Atreus cried out. His father closed his eyes as his way of acknowledging him. The boy wrapped his small arms around his father’s massive torso, taking care to be very gentle.

“I am...not...a vase...boy…” Kratos let out a snort-cough. Atreus smirked at him knowingly.

“Yeah, you only look like you were eaten by a bear, shat out, and then trampled half to death by a moose. You look great, father.” Kratos chuckled lowly before wincing. “Ow.”

Atreus giggled.

“Ow? Man, that sounds like it hurt _so_ much!” He teased. His father cast him a half-hearted scowl.

“Boy...what happened...to make you so...sarcastic…?” Kratos rumbled. Atreus shrugged.

“I don’t know. Maybe lack of other people to talk to? Sorry Úlfr, but you don’t count.” Krato’s brows furrowed.

“Úlfr?” He repeated, tone questioning. Atreus nodded.

“Hey, Úlfr, come over here!” The boy called. Úlfr hesitated. “Come on!” Atreus beckoned again, “He’s not going to bite you!” Still, the wolf stayed in place, eye darting back and forth from Atreus to Kratos and then back again. It suddenly dawned on Atreus why his wolf friend was acting so nervously.

“Hey, Úlfr, it’s okay, you didn’t mean it -- you were hungry and you didn’t have any food, it’s not your fault. You’re okay, you’re okay,” He soothed. He shifted away from his father and sat at the very edge of the bed with his arms spread wide. “Come here, Úlfr,” He asked gently. The wolf finally inched closer, posture still rigid, but at least he had came. Atreus enveloped Úlfr in a cautious hug, arms wrapping around his thick, furry neck loosely, and he felt his wolf companion deflate underneath him. Atreus pulled back, patting Úlfr on the head a few times, and gently guided his muzzle to his father’s face.

Úlfr gazed at his father, and Atreus saw something akin to understanding light his features. Kratos, to his credit, remained silent for this powerful moment, allowing Úlfr to lean in, and touch his nose to that of Kratos’s. It seemed like a genuine apology, and Úlfr’s blue eye shimmered with meaning.

Understanding flickered through brown eyes, and Kratos reached out. Úlfr stiffened again, but tentatively allowed the weakened man to lay his huge hand on him. His thumb ghosted over Úlfr’s milky, blind eye, and the wolf shifted uncomfortably. Kratos noticed this and retracted his thumb, deciding to rub Úlfr’s cheek instead.

For several moments, Úlfr remained stiff, but as Kratos continued his caresses, Úlfr finally relaxed and leaned into his touch, closing his eye in content. Atreus felt his heart melt at the tender scene, and he smiled at the two. He yawned, and Úlfr yawned soon after, eliciting a soft chuckle from Kratos. Atreus laid down next to his father, snuggling into the warm wall of muscle against his back. Kratos draped an arm on his son’s small frame.

The wolf -- Úlfr, as Atreus had called it -- nosed at his thick fingers, rasping its tongue over his skin, then slid down to the floor, resting it's burly body against the side of the bed. Kratos reached down and pat it’s head gingerly, and it nuzzled back into him sleepily.

Kratos closed his eyes. He’d gotten a lot of sleep already, but he felt tired enough to sleep at least another whole day. Although he’d probably never admit it aloud, he was proud that Atreus had added a new member to their little family, even if he was a wolf.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, I'm finally able to relax again (since I AM on summer break).
> 
> How was your day?
> 
> ~Miss Turtle

Morning came too quickly. Still rather tired, but at least somewhat less so, Kratos was very alarmed to find neither boy nor wolf. Struggling weakly out of his bed, he winced as white-hot pain lanced through his abdomen, but the thought of any harm coming to his son -- especially after just waking up from who-knows-how-long -- was motivation enough to bring him to his feet.

He stood up on shaky legs, but quickly fell to the floor. He got back up, teetering over to the massive door, and pushed at it. It didn’t move. He poured more strength into his next shove, but still, it would not budge. Exhausted, Kratos slid down to the floor. _‘When did I get so weak?’_ He thought bitterly, glaring back at the door. He caught sight of a small object at the very bottom. He prodded at it, but his large fingers were too big to dislodge.

Suddenly, the thing disappeared and Kratos felt the door at his back shift. Like something was trying to get in.

“Hey, open up! It’s just Atreus!” There was a bark. “...And Úlfr!” Kratos stood up again, supporting himself on the door, then the wall next to the door, and opened it wearily. True to his word, there was Atreus, eyes and bright and bow slung around his shoulder, as well as Úlfr. The wolf glanced up at him, and his long tail started wagging happily. “Can we come in yet, or…?” Atreus said, grinning mischievously.

His father grunted, then shifted aside, stumbling back to his bed. Not even halfway there, he fell, _again_ , growling irately at his own weakness. Atreus was by his side instantly, pulling Kratos’s arm and draping it across his own shoulders. Assisted by his son, they stood up again awkwardly and slowly shuffled back to Kratos’s bed. When they finally made it back, Kratos allowed himself to just drop onto the bed, and it squealed out in pain. Kratos's brow furrowed.

“Atreus?” Atreus glanced down at his father. “How long have I been...unconscious?” The young archer tapped his chin thoughtfully.

“I think...about...a little over a month?” Kratos’s jaw dropped. He’s been asleep for _over a month?!_ “I haven’t been keeping track, but it’s definitely been a long time,” continued Atreus as he absently scratched at the back of Úlfr’s ears. He brightened. “I bet you’re hungry! Úlfr and I caught some fresh meat; we got some hare,” he held up the snowy-colored animal, “and a young lynx,” he said, pointing to the furry bundle in the mouth of the wolf, “and then we got a big deer over by the creek!” Atreus dropped his catch in the basket by the door, and Úlfr mimicked the action. “We’re going to go back out and get the deer before something else does -- we’ll be back in a few minutes!”

“Wait, boy,” Kratos started, brow furrowing again, “how are you going to get the deer back here?” Atreus blinked and shrugged.

“Just drag it back here, I guess,” He replied, opening the door again.

“You’re going to _drag_ that back here?” Kratos repeated in disbelief.

“Yeah,” his son responded casually. “I got you and the moose we were hunting back here, didn’t I? The deer will be so much easier.” Flashing a playful grin, his son beckoned to Úlfr, who trotted out the door. Atreus paused, then turned around again. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you, but I stuff a piece of wood underneath the door so nothing can get in. Like last time.” Kratos swore he heard the boy mutter the last part under his breath, but it was quiet enough to make him unsure.

The door groaned shut, leaving the spartan to his brooding. _‘So,’_ he thought, _‘I’ve been gone for a month.’_ He glanced around. The house was not messy -- in fact, it was surprisingly tidy; especially so since it was just Atreus.

...And Úlfr. But even with how seemingly smart the wolf was, Kratos was positive that he definitely could _not_ assist with any of the cleaning that was done. The god sat in silence, waiting for his son and his loyal companion to return. They came back after not too long, and Kratos was startled out of his trance when he heard the telltale scrape of wood on wood and the door swung wide open.

As promised, there was Atreus, hauling his deer into their house by the antlers  with Úlfr trailing behind, a plump young rabbit dangling from his teeth. The boy huffed with effort, slender arms corded with a lean muscle that Kratos had not known he had possessed. Or maybe he hadn’t had it before -- a lot can happen in one month; the friendship between wolf and boy was proof.

Kratos started out of his musing once again as Atreus secured the door shut. Then his son grabbed out his knife, knelt down by the animal, and began skinning it.

Kratos stared.

The last time they had gone hunting, Atreus had been so proud to take down their caribou. However, his enthusiasm quickly faded when Kratos waited expectantly for him to finish what he had started. That Atreus was very different from this one that knelt before him, not so much as even twitching when a pocket of blood spurted onto him. As his eyes slid down Atreus’s form, he noticed the expansive, grotesque mess of skin that extended from his wrist to just over halfway up his forearm. The sight had Kratos boiling. Who dare lay their hands on his son, and mar the once smooth, youthful skin?!

 _‘I will do more than just have his head!’_ The god vowed. He must have let his anger show because he suddenly realized that Atreus had stopped cutting.

“...Father? Are you okay? Is there something wrong?” Atreus repeated. His father shook his head, but the boy was not convinced. Wiping his bloodied hands off with a towel, he approached Kratos and laid an arm -- _his injured arm_ \-- on his own. “Father,” Atreus drawled. He folded his other arm onto his chest, fixing him an expectant stare. Kratos sighed.

“I was contemplating about what I would do to make the being that harmed you regret that they were ever birthed,” He caved. Atreus’s stern features melted into amusement. “Is there something you would like to inform me of, boy?” Kratos asked sharply. Atreus chuckled slyly and glanced over to the wolf, who was busily gnawing away at a massive leg bone.  

“I would much rather prefer you not to wring Úlfr by the neck; he is very good at hunting and it would be a shame for all of our training and practice to go to waste. Also, he really is great company to have around once you get used to him,” He remarked drily.

  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kratos and Atreus finally have the heart-to-heart talk that they have been needing for a while now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this wasn't a very long series; life was very pesky and kept getting in my way as I tried to update this and post new chapters, but I did my best! 
> 
> Cuddles to all the people who commented or gave kudos -- you guys have no idea just how much that meant to me as someone who is still new to the fanfiction community!
> 
> I hope that all who read this enjoyed it, and until next time, my friends!
> 
> ~Miss Turtle
> 
> ^EDIT^ Do ya'll have any ideas about what I should do next? (plz give me sum suggestions T-T)

“Boy...Atreus...I wi--....I need to speak with you.” Kratos bowed his head. “About many things.” Atreus cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Whatever you need to say sounds important, and I don’t want to interrupt, but I’m, uh. I’m pretty hungry,” He replied, giving his father an embarrassed grin as he scratched his neck anxiously.

“Go prepare yourself some food then, boy,” Kratos chuckled. Atreus grinned again, but it froze on his face. “Boy?” His son slapped his palm into his face with a loud groan.

“Aw, that’s right!” He cried, “I’ll go make you something as well!” Kratos’s brow deepened.

“Nonsense, boy! I am fully capable of preparing my own meal!” The god protested. Atreus snorted.

“Yeah, you’re capable at making your own meal -- if you could stand without falling over like you had a couple too many,” The boy teased playfully.

“I can hold my liquor very well, boy!” Kratos scoffed. His son’s eyes glinted mischievously.

“You say that as if you know that from experience!” Atreus taunted, grinning wickedly. Kratos went silent. The frivolous tint to the boy’s doe eyes faded, replaced by hard-pressed concern. “Father? Father, are you well?” He reached out to feel for his father’s cheek when Kratos suddenly surged into action. Atreus yelped as Kratos gripped the boy’s arm with strong muscles and pulled him into his chest. Blunt fingers pressed quickly at several different places on the boy’s body, and before they knew it, Atreus was howling with laughter as Kratos tickled him. 

“OKAY, OKAY, STOP, I CAN’T BREATHE!” Atreus squealed, kicking and pushing at his father’s thick limbs. With a great chortle, Kratos finally released his son to Úlfr’s insistent licking. “Oh, no! ÚLFR NO!” The boy cried out again, succumbing to the power of the wolf’s tongue. Atreus lashed out wildly, still laughing uncontrollably, and Kratos finally came to his aid to stop the hound.

“Come now beast; Atreus will not appreciate if you continue for any longer,” Kratos scolded, but there was no real bite to his words. The wolf lapped at the boy a few more times before at last stepping back, tail wagging fervently. Atreus sagged into the floor.

“Oh boy!” He giggled tiredly, “I am _definitely_ going to be feeling this for the rest of the day!” Úlfr laid down next to the boy dutifully, nuzzling into him happily. Kratos watched his son pat the wolf, a wave of amusement rolling through him as the boy’s face scrunched up in disgust at the slobber that clung to his hand.

“Atreus,” Kratos started. How should he say this? He couldn’t just say ‘thanks-for-dragging-me-back-here-and-caring-for-me-for one-month-on-your-own-while-I-almost-died.’ Atreus deserved much more credit than that. But he didn’t want to glorify it either. _‘Damn words!’_ Kratos growled internally. Words were ridiculous, and unnecessary; who needs words when you had a powerful axe at your side?

“Atreus,” Kratos cleared his throat again. He’d just have to try. “I know you said already that you wish to have your breakfast, but I wish to speak with you about your…” He trailed off, thinking for a moment, “Your care and maintenance of me.” He took a deep breath to calm his uneasy nerves, then began speaking again.

“Thank you Atreus. For everything. A month is a lot of time to be on your own, even more so when you are trying to care for someone -- for me. You have done many things for me in my absence; you cooked, you cleaned, you dressed my wounds, you took care of our home, you nursed me back to health, and you added a new member to our family,” He said, glancing over at Úlfr warmly.

“You did so much, and I, although I never say it out loud, I --”

It was just three words. He’s said them to Faye. He’s said them to Lysandra. He’s even said them to Calliope. So why was he having so much trouble with them now?

“I love you.”

There. He said it.

Atreus’s eyes glistened.

“I love you, Atreus, and you are the single greatest thing I could ever ask for. You have always been a blessing to me from the day you were born, and you shall remain a blessing to me until the end of time.”

Atreus was silent.

Why was he silent?

 

_Please, say something boy._

_Anything, please, just_ something!

_...please..._

 

Words would never be able to describe the euphoria that blossomed in Kratos as Atreus wound his arms around him tightly enough to start to crush his windpipe.

But Kratos didn’t care.

It was as if he had gone into a deep slumber, dormant because of the deaths of Faye, Lysandra, and Calliope. But now he was awoken.

Now he was alive.

He finally found his purpose in life once again.

He wrapped his arms around Atreus, burying his face into his son's slender shoulder.

Kratos vowed, there and then, that he was never going to let go of Atreus ever again.


End file.
